


Distance Makes The Heart Grow Fonder.

by CupCakezys



Series: Heartstrings [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Aromantic, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Arthur Knows About Morgana's Magic (Merlin), Asexuality, Canon Era, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Getting Together, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, Mutual Pining, Polyamory, Secret Relationship, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2020-08-19 22:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20217625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CupCakezys/pseuds/CupCakezys
Summary: Gwen had always wanted to meet her soulmate, even if they were a sorcerer. It didn't matter to her. Until, arriving in Camelot for the first time and standing before the great King Uther himself, she realised just how dangerous it was for someone with magic to live undetected for long. Did she really want to meet her soulmate, only to have them inevitably ripped from her?Morgana couldn't figure it out. Her soulmate was meant to be the one to help her, the one she could trust. They were meant to change the world together. So why was the pretty girl on the other end of her heartstring avoiding her?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In which Morgana learns what it is to live alone.

**Green. **

Morgana was told, quite strictly, that she was never to talk about her soulmate when she was four summers old. She didn’t really understand why, her father never explained it to her, but he was one of the few people she didn’t like arguing with. Morgana loved her father more than anyone else in the whole world, and if he told her to do something, she was always sure to listen.

So, Morgana tried to never talk about her soulmate. Servants and maids would talk about them, when they thought she wasn’t around, so Morgana knew they _existed_, but she was never curious enough to ask about them. She didn’t see the point. She was fine as she was, with her father and the two old nursemaids that had looked after her for as long as she could remember. She didn’t need anyone else.

Her father had also told her to never talk about the bright green string around her wrist. Morgana was _much_ more curious about that. No one _ever _talked about the string around their wrist. Of course, Morgana tried to do as her father said, she _really_ did, but the string was pretty and she couldn’t _not_ play with it when it curled into pretty shapes around her, couldn’t resist turning to her nursemaids and asking them what it was.

And they told her, in hushed whispers when no one else was around, about magic and sorcerers, of witches and warlocks, about how her mother had blessed her with her own magic when she had given birth to Morgana and lost her life in the process. And Morgana would get so caught up in their tales that not once would she notice they weren’t really answering her questions.

“You will be strong.” One nursemaid would tell her. “Stronger even than your mother.”

Morgana would grin at that, until the other old woman would speak up. “And you must never let anyone know, little one. You must never tell a soul.”

Morgana would pout, and the first nursemaid would tut. “Now now sister, don’t upset her so.” And then she would turn to Morgana, and her eyes would glow a soft gold. “You will meet your soulmate, dear child, and your secret will be theirs as well. And when the time is right, you will be recognized for your gifts, and we will all be free.”

Morgana didn’t understand what they were talking about, not completely, but she would listen intently every time, even if she already knew what they would say off by heart.

“When will I meet my soulmate?” She would ask, as her hair was brushed, or as she was dressed, or as she was laying in bed. “When will we be free? What does it all mean?”

They would both chuckle, and always there would be a hand in her hair, old and wrinkled. “You will find out in time.”

“Promise?” Morgana would ask, wide eyed and trusting.

“We promise.”

And that would be the end of their conversation. And Morgana believed them, every time. Because they promised.

* * *

When Morgana turned seven her father took her for a picnic out in the woods. It was something Morgana knew her father used to do with her mother all the time, before Morgana was born. He would take Morgana out sometimes, in their gardens, but it was a rare thing. Today she had asked him to take her to her mothers’ favourite spot, the one that Kori and Gria had told her about. Her father had muttered something about her being too old to have nursemaids, but then he had smiled and bowed as he held out his arm to her. Morgana had giggled and curtsied back, taking his arm, and within the hour they were riding out.

Morgana loved riding. There was nothing else that made her feel so free, except maybe the few times her father would allow her to pick up a sword and play knights with him. She grinned and urged her horse forward and out into the fields beyond the walls of her home. Morgana laughed as her father galloped up to her, and then sent him a cheeky grin.

“Race you!” She yelled, speeding up.

Her father had laughed and raced after her.

It hadn’t taken Morgana long to slow down, as she realised she had no idea where she was going. Her father smiled as he passed her and gestured for her to follow. They rode hard for a few minutes, Morgana laughing at the wind in her hair and the freedom at her fingertips. It didn’t take them long after that to arrive. Morgana watched as her father slowed to a stop in front of her and dismounted.

Morgana frowned. Why had they stopped? There was nothing but thick bushes all around.

Her father sent her a grin full of mischief, and Morgana raised her eyebrows at him in the way her maids would sometimes do to her when they though she wasn’t looking. Her father helped her off her horse and grabbed the picnic basket off his own saddle. He held out a hand and Morgana grabbed it tight.

“Welcome, my princess.” Her father grasped one of the bushes and shoved. “To the Sacred Grounds.”

Morgana giggled at his dramatics and pushed past what remained of the bush. For a moment she struggled to get through them, branches tugging at her dress, but then she was free and stumbling into the sunshine.

Morgana had looked around and gasped.

The clearing was beautiful, beyond anything she had seen before. It was completely surrounded by trees and thick bushes, reminding Morgana of the enclosed gardens back home. A small stream ran along the far side of the clearing, the water sparkling in the sunlight. And covering the entirety of the open space was a sea of bright blue flowers growling merrily in the sun. Morgana had hesitantly run her hand through the flowers, the petals soft on her fingers.

“It’s beautiful.” She had whispered, awed.

“Your mother did this, a long time ago.” Her father had joined her then, a distant smile on his face. “I proposed to her in this very field, and she was so happy she made all the flowers spring into bloom. They’ve been like this ever since. Even in the dead of winter, they’re in full bloom.”

“Wow.” Morgana smiled a small smile. “Mother was amazing.”

Her father sighed. “Yes. Yes she was.”

Morgana glanced around the clearing once more, saw a small parting of the flowers by the stream where green grass grew. “Come on.” She tugged on her father’s arm. “Let’s have our picnic over there.”

Time passed quickly after that, in a pleasant haze that made Morgana feel warm inside whenever she thought back on the day. That wonderful, simple day.

The next thing that Morgana remembers, crystal clear even years later, is asking her father about Kori and Gria’s sister. She had heard about her, in bits and pieces and hushed tones, but no one would even look at her when she asked about her. Earlier that day Kori had disappeared, and when she had asked Gria where she had gone, she had simply gotten a sad smile in response.

Her father had sighed. “I suppose you had to find out some day.” He looked far away for a moment, like he so often did, before he shook it off and turned to Morgana seriously. “Her name was Mana. She was a lovely woman. Your mother adored her, they spent all their time together. Especially when your mother fell pregnant.” Morgana watched as her fathers’ face turned sad. “They were so excited, even after the last time, when the rest of us...” He glanced at her, then away again.

Morgana didn’t understand, not really, but she didn’t want that sad look to stay on his face. “Did she die?”

Her father startled. “Yes. Yes, she- when the prince was born, and the queen died, the king began The Purge – we’ve talked about it before, you remember?”

“Yes.” Morgana had nodded, her hands clasped together and shaking. “He killed anyone with magic.”

“He still does.” Her father corrected solemnly. “Mana was one of the first to be killed.”

Morgana gasped. “How?”

“Mana taught your mother magic. Uther knew, and three days into The Purge, Mana went to him.” He trailed off, staring into the sparkling water. “She was extremely powerful. Uther knew he’d never get her on his own. So he swore to leave her sisters alone if she gave herself up.”

Morgana sniffled, wondering how anyone could hurt someone that sounded so kind. Her father glanced at her, an apology on his lips, but Morgana shook her head. “Is that why he never visits? Why you never go to Camelot, even though everyone says Uther is your best friend?” She took a deep breath, not letting her father respond. “Is that why you never let me talk about my magic?”

“Morgana!” Her father had gasped, angry and fearful all at once. “You don’t have magic. And even if you did, you’re too young for it to have developed. It’s not something you need to think about.”

Morgana frowned. “But Kori and Grias talk to me about my magic all the time.”

Her father grabbed her shoulders, eyes wild and grip just shy of painful. “You do not have magic! Do you understand me?”

Morgana nodded, pulling back as far as she could. “I understand, I understand!”

Her father let her go, staring at her silently. “Good, that’s good.”

They fell into a silence, and Morgana had fought with herself for a long while before she spoke again. “You know it’s a lie though. Why else would I be able to see my heartstring?”

Her father’s eyes slipped to her wrist, and he abruptly stood up. “It’s time to go home Morgana.”

Morgana watched her heartstring weave around the flowers of the clearing merrily, forest green light mixing with the pale blue. She sighed and stood, turning to her retreating fathers back. She made her way after him without another word.

* * *

When Morgana was eight, her father went away to war.

She had begged him not to go, even if the king had ordered it himself. His place was here, with her, not on some battlefield far away. Kori and Gria stood at her back, watching, as always.

In the end, nothing Morgana said or did stopped her father from leaving.

She hadn’t known it then, but that would be a day she would remember for the rest of her life.

It was the last time she ever saw her father alive.

* * *

Two months after Morgana’s father had left, just three days after her ninth birthday, Kori died. It wasn’t unexpected. Everyone had known for months the old woman was dying, and Morgana had been no different. She had noticed the way Kori fought for her every breath on her worst days, and managed to sit up and talk on her best.

Morgana still couldn’t believe it when she heard the maids start wailing.

They wouldn’t let her into Kori’s room, but Morgana was nothing if not resourceful. She hid and waited patiently as servants rushed to and from the room, some calling her name. Gria was nowhere to be found, and Morgana suspected she hadn’t left her sister’s side. She was glad. It made it easier to hide from the maids looking for her. Gria would have found her in an instant.

Finally, _finally_, people stopped rushing through Kori’s door. Morgana waited an extra five minutes, just in case someone came back, before she slipped out from her hiding place and creeped through the door. She shut it behind her softly and gulped. Now she was here, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to turn around.

“Morgana.” Gria said softly. “Come here, dear child.”

Morgana took a steadying breath before turning around. She found she couldn’t look up, her eyes glued to the floor as she made her way to Kori’s bedside. Gria was sat in a chair beside it, and when Morgana risked a glance up it was to meet kind and gentle eyes.

“Sit.” Gria said, and patted her knee.

Morgana climbed into her lap and hid her head in her shoulder, something she hadn’t done since she was very young. “It’s true?”

Gria sighed, and then there was a hand in her hair, soothing. “Yes dear child. Kori has left this world.”

Morgana felt tears burn her eyes and choked on a sob. “I didn’t believe them. I didn’t want to.”

“We all die, Morgana.” Gria murmured. “It is not a reason to be sad. The dead may not be with us now, but one day we will be together again, in the world after this one.”

Morgana shook her head. “But I want to be together now! With you, and Kori, and Father. Like how it used to be!”

“Ah.” Gria said. “I’m afraid we can not always get what we want, dear child. It is a hard lesson, but one we must all learn. It will make you stronger.”

“I don’t want to be stronger.” Morgana whispered, more tears sliding down her cheeks. “I don’t think I can be.”

Gria drew her back, looked her in the eyes, and smiled as her own glowed gold. “You will be among the strongest of us all, Morgana. In will, and in magic. That much is certain.” Morgana gulped, and another tear fell, and Gria’s eyes faded back to brown. “But that will be then, and this is now. Come, we must say goodbye to Kori and get you to bed.”

“I don’t think I’ll sleep.” Morgana muttered, even as she obediently slipped off of Gria’s lap.

“You will.” Was all Gria said.

Morgana felt a wrinkled and rough hand take her own. She let it pull her closer to the bed and finally, she looked up.

The moonlight made Kori almost glow with how pale she had become. Morgana could almost fool herself into thinking she was just asleep, but the unnatural stillness of her chest made it impossible.

“Goodbye, sister dear.” Gria whispered. “Until we meet again.”

“Goodbye Kori.” Morgana bit her lip and swallowed hard. Gria squeezed her hand. “Until we meet again.”

Gria smiled and tugged on her hand. “To bed now Morgana. Tomorrow you will be expected to wake up early.”

For the funeral, Morgana knew. She’d heard the servants talking about it while she was hiding. “Okay.”

The funeral was a quiet affair. Gria stood with Morgana, a hand in her shoulder. When it was over Gria led Morgana inside and a maid brought in all of Morgana’s favourite foods. Morgana said nothing, and Gria left her to her thoughts. Morgana went to sleep that night having said almost nothing at all.

Two nights later Morgana woke up screaming from a nightmare.

She ran for Gria immediately. Desperation was burning hot in her chest, and she needed to see the old woman _now. _She didn’t knock on the door, just slipped inside, and ran to Gria’s side.

She was awake already, eyes golden and focused on Morgana. “Hello dear child.”

“Gria.” Morgana whispered and grabbed her hand like it was a lifeline. “Don’t go.”

A sad smile, and a shake of the head. “Everyone dies Morgana. It is simply my turn.”

“No!” Morgana cried as she felt the tears well up all over again. “You can’t, you can’t leave me all alone here! Please!”

“I must.” Griddle said, and Morgana hated how calm she was. How accepting. “You will be strong, Morgana. For all of us, you must be. But you must also be cautious. You have so much potential to shine, the dark will seek you out and try to crush you before you’ve even truly begun to glow.”

“Stop it!” Morgana yelled. “I don’t care about magic, or being strong, or any of that! I care about you!”

Gria gripped her hands tight and continued on as if Morgana had never spoken. “You must promise me Morgana. You must swear it! Do not let them darken your light. You mustn’t let them!”

Morgana struggled, then sagged, face falling on top of their hands. “I promise.”

Immediately Gria relaxed. “Good, good.”

“Please don’t go.” Morgana whispered.

“I must.” Gria repeated, calm once more. “The Maiden and the Mother are nothing without the Crone. I cannot leave them alone for much longer.”

Morgana frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Gria laughed a laugh that quickly dissolved into dry, hacking coughs. “No, dear child, I don’t expect you to. But one day, you will.” Morgana frowned, but she knew she would get nothing more. Gria never said more than what needed to be said. “Back to bed now Morgana.”

Morgana’s head whipped up to stare wide eyed at still-golden eyes. “But-”

“No buts.” Gria said, stern. “To bed.”

Morgana swallowed back what she wanted to say and stood. “Yes Gria.”

She was halfway to the door before Gria spoke again. “Goodbye Morgana. Until we meet again.”

Morgana choked on air, one hand instantly flying to her mouth. She took a moment to breathe, and finally managed to squeak out. “Goodbye Gria. Until we meet again.”

There was a satisfied noise from behind her, and a long sigh, and Morgana ran from the room without looking back. She didn’t sleep again that night.

When a maid came to wake her that morning with tears in her eyes, Morgana wasn’t surprised when she was told Gria had died during the night. Still, she couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

* * *

Morgana was ten when word reached her that her father had died. He had fought bravely, they had told her, and died serving his king. Morgana didn’t care. She felt numb. Where the world had felt empty before, it felt barren now, like the whole world had died around her. Maybe it had. What else was left in the world, without her father and Kori and Gria?

She was to be taken away, that much she had heard and understood. They were taking her from her home, taking her to Camelot and to a king that would kill her in a second if he knew what she was capable of – or would be capable of, one day. This estate was no place for a child all alone, they had said, even if this was Morgana’s home and she never wanted to leave. Who where these men, anyway, to tell her what she couldn’t do, where she couldn’t live? That was her own decision to make, not theirs.

Even so, Morgana had found herself simply nodding along, numb and cold all the way to her bones despite it being such a lovely and warm summer day.

It took the servants two days to have her bags all packed. Morgana hadn’t helped them, the way she would have when she was younger. She hardly moved at all, only getting up when someone called her to eat or bathe. She had caught a few of the maids sending her worried glances, but she didn’t care.

The knights arrived on the morning of the third day, five of the kings very best, to escort her to Camelot and its castle and strange people that she didn’t care for. Morgana said nothing. She followed behind a maid and allowed herself to be lifted into the carriage. The maid fussed, and Morgana found a blanket around her legs and a small cake in her hands. She ate slowly as they started moving.

It took them the better part of a day to reach Camelot.

The king himself was waiting for her when she arrived. The sun was going down, making the city feel like it was closing in on her and the silhouette of the waiting king that much more terrifying. The carriage stopped at the base of the steps. Morgana gulped as the maid riding with her opened the door and slipped out. She gestured for Morgana to follow.

Morgana breathed in quickly and tried to stop her hands from trembling.

“Be strong.” She whispered as she stood up. “You have to be strong.”

The maid helped her out of the carriage, and Morgana gripped her hand tightly. She refused to let go as they approached the king, doing her best to stand tall even as she half hid in the maid’s skirt. A hand rested against her shoulder, and then they were moving forward and up the stairs towards the king.

The king, who was smiling at her.

Morgana gulped and curtsied. “Your majesty.”

King Uther inclined his head to her. “Lady Morgana. It is a pleasure to welcome you to Camelot.” His smile faltered, just for a moment. “I am only sorry it could not be under better circumstances.”

Morgana’s mouth went dry. “I am as well, my lord.”

“Your father fought bravely. He was one of my best knights, and a close friend.” Uther gestured her forward, and, helpless to disobey, Morgana climbed the rest of the steps to his side. She flinched at his hand on her shoulder. “I promised him I would protect you. Camelot is your home now, and I will let no harm come to you.”

Morgana almost laughed. He’d harm her, _kill her_, in an instant if he knew her secret. She bowed her head, refusing to meet his gaze, lest she give away her thoughts.

“Thank you, my lord.” She mumbled, and then she was being pulled inside as Uther shouted orders and the sun set on the walls of her new home.

* * *

Morgana awoke on the second morning of her new life to a strange feeling in her chest. She rubbed at it as she got out of bed, frowning in thought. She’d never felt anything like this before. Perhaps she was coming down with something. She’d have to ask Gaius, he was the court physician after all, he _should_ know what was wrong with her.

The maid that came in to help her that morning was young and unfamiliar. She served Morgana her breakfast in silence and didn’t look up as she helped Morgana get dressed for the day. Morgana didn’t try to pull her into conversation. Yesterday she had tried talking to the older maid that had served her, and gotten nothing but short, respectful answers in response. She hardly thought this maid would do any better.

It made her ache for home.

Morgana spent a few hours exploring the castle before she found Gaius’s chambers again. She hesitated a moment at the closed door, then drew up her shoulders and knocked.

“Enter.” Gaius called almost instantly.

Morgana pushed the door open, poking her head in carefully. Gaius was grinding something up in a bowl at his table, but at the creak of the door he turned to look at her. He raised an eyebrow when he spotted her, though it was quickly replaced with a bemused smile.

“Lady Morgana.” He gestured her in and sat down on his bench. “What can I do for you? You haven’t gotten into anymore fights, have you?”

Morgana blushed and touched the scrapes on her hand. “No. Arthur’s refused to come anywhere near me since yesterday.” She turned her nose up, then shifted on her feet. “I came to ask you something.”

Gaius sat back. “Alright. What would you like to know?”

“I woke up with a weird feeling in my chest.” Morgana crossed her arms in front of her. “I thought you could tell me what it was.”

Gaius nodded, considering. “What type of weird feeling?”

Morgana frowned and rubbed her chest. “It’s a kind of… tightness.”

“I see.” Gaius frowned. “Is this tightness constant?”

“Yes.” Morgana shook her head. “And it’s gotten worse since I woke up.”

“Have you had the unexplainable desire to go anywhere, my lady? Like a tugging sensation, pulling you in a certain direction?”

Morgana shrugged. “Maybe? I can’t say I’ve really noticed. Is it important?”

“Well, a tightening of the chest is a common symptom people often show when their soulmate is near.” Gaius said.

Morgana gasped. “My soulmate? You’re saying they could be here? In Camelot?”

“They very well could be.” Gaius nodded. “But there is an equal chance you are simply getting sick. I’ll give you a potion.” He got up and poked around his shelves for a moment before coming back with a bottle. “Here. Take a drop of this with every meal for the next three days, and you’ll be feeling better in no time.”

Morgana took the bottle. “Thank you.” She turned, intent on going back to her room, before pausing at the door. “Gaius?”

“Yes, my lady?”

She stared at the potion in her hands. “What if it _is_ my soulmate?”

Gaius smiled. “Then I wish you the best of luck, my lady.”

* * *

The thought followed Morgana around for the rest of the morning. She had never really cared much about her soulmate. They had always been a distant idea more than anything else, and Morgana had always had everyone she needed already. Now, in this strange new castle where her only option of a friend was a stuck-up prince, she was in desperate need of someone she could confide in.

She thought of Gria and Kori, of their promises about her and her soulmate. _Your secret will be theirs as well, and when the time is right you will be recognized for your gifts, and we will all be free. _Morgana wanted that, more than anything. She wanted to be free from this fear, and _soon. _Because, despite everything Gria had said, Morgana didn’t think she was strong enough to live like this.

Then, at the very edge of her vision, her heartstring had twitched.

Morgana stared down at it. It floated as if on a gentle breeze, even though the widow to her chambers was shut tight. Nothing unusual there. She huffed and shook her head.

“Stupid heartstring.” She muttered.

Morgana had managed to ignore the tight feeling in her chest, as well as the occasional twitch of her heartstring, well past lunch. She had taken the potion, as per Gaius’s instructions, but it seemed to have only made things worse. And complicating things was the king’s unwanted attentions. He had summoned her for lunch, and they had eaten in near silence. Morgana had been half scared out of her wits, watching every move the king made, just in case.

He had asked her to walk with him through the gardens after lunch, saying something about seeing the flowers, and Morgana had agreed only to avoid arousing suspicion. Her chest ached something fierce as they walked. She tried to subtly rub at it, hoping to ease the ache, but nothing worked. Her heartstring wasn’t helping, twitching and squeezing her hand at random intervals, making her gasp quietly each time.

Finally, after an hour in the gardens, the king informed her he had responsibilities to attend to for the rest of the day. Morgana had curtsied as he left her alone with a single maid. Morgana had eyed her critically. She didn’t know this one either.

“Can you take me back to my chambers?” She asked, hoping for conversation. “All this walking as tired me out, and I’m afraid I’d get lost if I went on my own.”

She grinned, but the maid had simply curtsied, head bowed. “Of course my lady.”

Morgana’s grin died as fast as it had appeared, and she frowned as she followed behind her. Why did none of these servants talk to her? And, perhaps more importantly, where were the maids she had arrived with? She would have to find out and see if she could get one of them assigned as her permanent maidservant.

The maid left her alone in her chambers after a quick curtsy. Morgana sighed and flopped down onto her bed. Her heartstring twitched again, and then _squeezed_. She gasped and curled around her arm, staring at her heartstring in alarm.

“What’s wrong?” She hissed. “Stop it!”

Her heartstring relaxed for a moment, then went taunt again. Morgana felt helpless as she was pulled to her feet and practically thrown at her window. She hastily opened it, rubbing her wrist where her heartstring was squeezing again. Rather than help, opening the window made her heartstring pull more, and Morgana stared at the green string in confusion.

“What’s going on? You’ve never acted like this before!” She huffed and rolled her eyes. “I must be going mad, talking to my heartstring.”

She glanced out her window, down towards the courtyard below. A carriage had arrived, along with quite a few men on horseback. As she watched, the men dismounted and began moving around the courtyard. A few seconds later the king appeared and greeted an older looking man with curly hair. Morgana didn’t know who they were. She hadn’t been told of anyone important arriving in Camelot.

Of course, Morgana hadn’t really thought too much about any of that, so even if she _had_ been told something, in that moment she wouldn’t have remembered.

She was too busy watching her heartstring as it went straight through the courtyard and into the side of the carriage. She watched as it lifted up slightly, shortening and pulling on her wrist, almost begging her to jump out her widow and see who was in the carriage. Morgana gripped the side of the window tight and leaned out as far as she dared.

The carriage door opened.

Morgana stared as the green of her heartstring dissolved into a bright yellow, like warm sunshine on a hot summer day.

A boy stepped out of the carriage, curly haired and tall, and Morgana’s heart skipped a beat, but no, that was _wrong,_ and her heartstring didn’t lead to him, there was someone else, _there had to be_-

The first thing Morgana saw was a dainty hand, dark as Morgana’s favourite sweet, as the boy turned around and held his own hand out. Then a pale blue dress appeared in the sun as whoever it was stepped out, and then finally they poked their head out and Morgana gasped.

Her soulmate was _beautiful. _

Her hair was done up in a simple braid, pulled back from her face, but it suited her perfectly. Morgana even though she spotted a flower there, a tiny splash of purple in the dark locks. Morgana couldn’t see much else from where she was standing, no matter how far she leaned out her window. She desperately wanted to see what colour her eyes were. She hadn’t gotten to see them yet.

The girl hadn’t looked up at her.

“Look up.” Morgana whispered. “I’m right here, look up.”

She watched as the boy ran forward and bowed to the king. An older man and another boy approached her soulmate, and to Morgana they looked like her family. The boy was glaring at the ground, even as his eyes kept flickering around, as if trying to take in all he could before returning his scowl to the ground. The man was watching the king, a hand on each of the children’s shoulders. Her soulmate didn’t lift her gaze at all.

“Why won’t you look at me?” Morgana asked, daring to lean out a little further as her heartstring tugged. “You know I’m here, I know you do.” Still, nothing, and Morgana’s eyes widened as she realised she was _deliberately not looking at her. _She glared. “Look at me!”

“Lady Morgana!” Someone yelled behind her, and then she was being yanked back inside and the window was firmly slammed shut. Her heartstring squeezed her arm and Morgana couldn’t breathe around the tightness in her chest. “What were you doing hanging out the window like that?”

“I was-” Morgana gasped for breath. “I was looking! There were new people!”

The maid holding her, she was one of her fathers, the one Gria had appointed to look after her, _where had she been- _“You were half hanging out the widow! You could have fallen!”

She winced back at the shrill voice. “I couldn’t see.”

The maid spun her around and shook her slightly. “Never do that again, understand me? You could have died!”

Morgana nodded frantically as tears welled up against her will. It was suddenly too much. She had lost everything, and in this scary new place where she could be found out and executed at any moment, her one chance at a friend and confidante had completely ignored her. Her hands shook as she tried to bite back a sob, but the tears were overflowing anyway and suddenly the maid looked guilty and sad and she was pulling Morgana into a tight embrace.

Morgana allowed herself a moment and just cried. She buried her face in the maids’ shoulder and allowed herself to be gently shushed and rocked. She allowed herself to be picked up and taken to bed. She allowed herself to be tucked in and held until she finally, inevitably, allowed herself to fall asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gwen makes a promise.

**Yellow**

Gwen couldn’t really remember anything from when she was young. Her earliest memory was of when she was some four summers old. She had been playing with her older brother and one of his friends in one of the fields surrounding Leon's family’s estate. Her mother had been working all day, _that_ she remembered. Her mother was always working.

Leon had come running towards them, and Elyan had grinned as he called out to him. Gwen had laughed and ran for him. Leon was her absolute _favourite _person, after all. He knelt down as she reached him and picked her up in a tight hug. Gwen laughed and hugged him back, happy to let him carry her back towards her brother.

“Leon!” Elyan called, bowing his head a little as Leon let Gwen down.

“Elyan. Edric.” Leon inclined his head to both of them and placed a hand on Gwen’s shoulder. “Guinevere. I’m afraid you all need to come back inside at once.”

Gwen frowned. No one called her Guinevere, not unless she was in trouble. “What’s happening?”

Leon looked weird, his smile not sitting right on his face, and the look he sent Elyan made worry grow in the pit of her stomach. “Never mind that. Your fathers are looking for you. Edric, Sir Aliser is waiting for you in the stables. Elyan, Guinevere, you’re both to come with me.”

Gwen glanced up at her brother, only to find him staring at Leon intensely. She gulped. No one said anything as Edric waved goodbye and made his was across the field. The instant he was out of earshot Elyan grabbed Leon’s arm. Gwen squeaked and stepped back.

“What’s going on Leon?” He hissed. “Your father never lets you out of your lessons early.”

Leon grabbed his wrist, glanced at Gwen, and sighed. “It’s your mother. Something happened.”

Elyan had ran so fast Gwen didn’t even get the chance to call his name. She was confused. What was wrong with their mama?

She tugged on Leon’s sleeve, gaining his attention. “Leon?”

Leon looked so _sad_, filled with a sort of guilt she didn’t recognise as such a young child. “Come on.” He leaned down and picked her up, making his way back to the estate.

Gwen struggled. “Someone will see!”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Gwen struggled harder. “But you aren’t allowed to! Mama said!”

“Yeah, well, damn the rules.” Leon had growled, causing Gwen to gasp. “You and Elyan are my friends, and I’m not hiding that just because you’re a servants’ children. Not anymore.”

Gwen worries her lip even as she nodded. “Leon?” He looked at her, and she hesitated for only a moment. “What happened to mama?”

There was that look again, so _sad_. “She… she’s sick Gwen.”

“Oh.” Gwen said. “Like when I got sick from playing in the snow?”

“Y-yeah. Like that.” Leon shifted her around, his grip almost painful for how tightly he was holding her.

Gwen nodded. “Okay.”

Gwen stayed quiet as Leon carried her through the huge gates at the front of his estate. She stayed quiet as they passed servants and nobles alike, and hid her face when they gaped at the sight of a lords’ son carrying a servants’ daughter. She stayed quiet until they passed the kitchen, and Gwen remembered something her mama had done when she was sick.

She wiggled in Leon’s hold, causing him to stumble and almost stop. “We should make some tea! That’s what mama did when I was sick. It’ll make her feel better.”

Leon made a kind of choking sound. “I’m sure she’d love that Gwen, but you should go see her first.”

Gwen nodded. That made sense, even if she _really _wanted to make the tea so her mama would feel better _now_. Leon took off again, up one of the big winding staircases that led to the servant’s quarters. Gwen wasn’t sure how he knew where he was going. She didn’t think he’d ever been in this part of the house. His father never let him, just like his father never let him play when Gwen and Elyan asked him to.

Leon got faster the closer he got to the room Gwen’s family lived in, and Gwen tightened her grip on him. She was scared – what if he dropped her? Elyan dropped her all the time when they were playing, sometimes on purpose, so she knew it hurt. She whimpered slightly, and that got Leon to slow down, at least a little bit.

They stumbled to a stop in front of her family’s room. The door was closed so Gwen couldn’t see what was going on inside. Leon was breathing hard, eyes wide, and Gwen had to tap his cheek a few times before he would look at her. He looked scared, so Gwen slipped out of his grasp and onto the floor.

He gulped as Gwen took his hand. “Come on.”

Leon let her pull him the rest of the way to the door. He stood with her after she had knocked, his hand squeezing hers too tightly. She frowned at him, but then the door opened, and her dad was staring down at her, eyes red-rimmed and sadder than Gwen had ever seen them. She dropped Leon’s hand in an instant and threw herself at her dad.

“Dad?” She whispered, struggling a little as he crushed her against him. “What’s wrong?”

“Gwen?”

Gwen peeked around her dad’s shoulder, grinning at her mama. She was propped up in bed, all pale and grey in a way that Gwen knew meant she was sick. One of the stable boys had looked the same after he fell ill, and she knew she hadn’t looked much better last winter when a day in the snow had left her bedridden for _ages_. She was smiling as she held a hand out to Gwen, the other already captured by Elyan next to her.

“My sweet girl. Come here.”

Her dad carried her to the bed, and Gwen scrambled across her mama’s legs so she could curl up by her side. Her mama wrapped an arm around her and squeezed her weakly. Gwen hugged her as tight as she could in return.

“Leon told me you were sick.” She said. “Like I was.”

Her mama coughed, but smiled. “Leon was right.”

Her dad sat and took her mama’s free hand as Gwen pushed herself back. “I want to make the special sick tea for you, so you feel better! Leon said it was a good idea, but that I should come see you first, so he carried me all the way here!”

Her dad startled. “He carried you here?”

Gwen nodded happily and turned towards Leon, who was slowly edging himself out the doorway. He looked away at the sudden attention, even as he straightened his back. Gwen didn’t want to move, so she waved at him to come over. He ignored her, staring instead at her dad, and Gwen fought not to pout.

“I promised I’d bring them both back to you quickly.” Was all Leon said, not looking away from her dad.

Gwen glanced between them, confused when her dad simply nodded. “You did. Thank you.”

Leon nodded and left, pulling the door closed behind him. Gwen frowned, but didn’t run after him. Her mama coughed into her pillow.

Her dad immediately stood up and started fussing with the blanket. “Are you comfortable?”

Her mama smiled and weakly slapped his hand away. “I’m fine Tom, stop fussing.”

“But you’re not fine.” Elyan said, surprising them all. “Are you?”

“Elyan-” Her dad started, voice stern.

Her mama stopped him. “No Tom. We cannot lie to them.” She turned to Gwen and drew Elyan up onto the bed so he was hugging her other side. “I’m sorry my sweets, but I am very sick. And-” she paused, coughed weakly, and swallowed. “And the physician doesn’t think I will be getting better.”

Elyan ripped himself out of their mama’s embrace like she had burned him. He had tears dripping down his face, and Gwen didn’t understand why. So what if their mama didn’t get better? They could look after her! Gwen knew how to make the special tea, after all, and their dad had taken care of her when she was sick. They could do the same for their mama.

Elyan hadn’t seemed to know that though, because he was crying and yelling and running from the room before Gwen could tell him. Her dad yelled back at him, and in seconds was gone from the room too. Her mama coughed again, and Gwen let herself be pushed back and sat next to the bed.

“Mama?” She questioned, reaching to go back to the hug. It was nice, especially since she didn’t get to spend much time with her mama most days.

She only shook her head. “No, stay there for a moment Gwen. There’s… there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Gwen frowned, but did as she was told. “Okay.”

Her mama caressed her cheek and smiled. “Oh my sweet girl. I’m so sorry.”

Gwen grasped her hand. “It’s okay, you can’t help being sick mama. That’s what you told me, remember?”

Her mama laughed, only for it to dissolve into a horrible cough. “This is different Gwen. Mama isn’t going to get better like you did.”

“I know!” Gwen grinned, because she _did_ and she had a plan, obviously. “But that’s okay! Dad can take care of you when he’s not working, and I know how to cook and clean like you do. We can look after you.”

Her mama cupped her face and shook her head. “No Gwen.”

Gwen’s grin fell. “No?”

“No.” She laid back into her pillow, hand still cupping Gwen’s cheek. “I’m afraid… mama is going to have to go away soon Gwen.”

Gwen frowned. “Go away? Where?”

“Somewhere very far away. You won’t be able to see me anymore, but I will _always_ look out for you Guinevere. For you and your brother, and your father.”

Gwen shook her head, tears in her eyes. “No! I don’t want you to go away!”

“I don’t have a choice.” Her mama apologised. “I will see you again Gwen. One day, a long time from now, I’ll see you again.”

“I don’t want to see you a long time from now! I want to see you always!” Tears were streaming down her face now, and she held her mama’s hand tightly in her own small fists. “It’s not fair!”

Her mama coughed again, weaker this time. “No, no it’s not.” They were silent for some time, Gwen crying and holding her mama’s hand as tightly as she could while her mama coughed and wheezed on the bed. “Gwen? You must promise me something.”

Gwen sniffled. “What?”

“Promise to look out for your brother and father. You’re family, you’ll need each other.”

Gwen nodded, helpless to do anything else. “I promise.”

Her mama had smiled, and then her dad had opened the door quietly, Elyan in his arms. Her brother was hiding his face in their dad’s neck, and Gwen knew it was because he’d been crying. Gwen whimpered, squeezing her mama’s hand tighter, and her dad was by her side in an instant, his huge hands wrapping around hers and her mama’s. Elyan didn’t move.

Gwen stayed by her mama’s side for the next three days and three nights. Her dad came and went, looking after her mama when he could and working long hours in the forge now that her mama couldn’t do her work around the castle. Elyan helped him, and helped the other servants with chores that their mama used to do, so Gwen only really saw him at night.

On the afternoon of the fourth day, when Gwen was carefully carrying some soup back to her mama from the kitchen, her dad started yelling so loud Gwen heard it all the way down the corridor. She dropped the bowl in surprise, splattering soup everywhere, and ran back to her parents, not even bothering to try and clean up the mess. Her dad was shouting! He might need her help!

She skidded through the open door and scrambled over to the bed. Her mama was laying still, sleeping, like she always seemed to be the past few days. Her dad was bent over the bed, tears in his eyes and her mama’s hand gripped tightly in his.

“Dad?” Gwen called. “What’s wrong?”

He ignored her for a moment, then quietly ordered. “Go find your brother.”

Gwen frowned and took a hesitant step forward. “But-”

“Now Guinevere!” Her dad yelled.

Gwen scrambled to obey, confusion and hurt making the beginnings of tears prickle in her eyes. She ran quickly through the servant’s quarters, calling for her brother as she went. One of the kitchen maids told her he was in the stables and Gwen thanked her before taking off again. She made her way to the stables as quickly as she could, dodging maids and nobles alike.

“Elyan!” She yelled as she burst through the open doors of the stables. “Elyan!”

“Here.” Elyan called, popping up from behind one of the horses. “What do you want Gwen?”

“It’s mama.” She blurted out. “I think somethings wrong. Dad told me to come find you.”

Elyan dropped what he was holding immediately and ran past Gwen, the fear on his face scaring her even more. Gwen huffed and ran after him, only to squeal as he appeared in front of her and grabbed her around the middle. Gwen clung to Elyan tightly as he ran, heart beating fast as they made their way back through the winding hallways of the estate.

“Mama!” Elyan yelled as they burst into their room and skidded to a halt.

Her dad was kneeling by the bed now, her mama’s hand still clutched in his. He looked up at Elyan's call, tears falling down his cheeks. Gwen has never seen him look so sad.

“Dad?” She asked, trying to move around Elyan and into the room.

Her dad held out his free hand to them. “Come here you two.”

Elyan finally moved. He didn’t take his eyes off their mama as he walked, and Gwen frowned when she saw him starting to cry. It scared her, and she felt tears of her own welling up. Her dad scooped her up the moment she was close enough, while Elyan held their mama’s hand with their dad.

“What’s wrong?” Gwen asked, hugging her dads’ neck.

“She’s gone.” Her dad whispered, hoarse and strained.

Gwen’s eyes widened, and she felt the tears start to spill. “No. No, she’s right there!”

She looked at her mama, so still and pale on the bed. She looked like she was sleeping, a good sleep, something she hadn’t had in a long time. She certainly hadn’t gone anywhere.

“No Gwen.” Her dad said. “Her spirit is gone. You remember, she told you she would have to go far away?”

Gwen looked at her mama again. “She’s… gone?”

Elyan sobbed. Gwen turned and buried herself in her dad’s chest, shaking with the force of her tears. A second later she felt Elyan pressed against her side, and then two strong arms wrapped around them both, holding them together as they cried.

* * *

The next thing Gwen remembers clearly is Leon’s tenth birthday. The whole estate was alive with activity, preparing for the feast Lady Amelia wanted for her son. Every servant was busy with work, rushing through the halls to finish their various chores.

Gwen was no different.

She had been woken early by her dad as he left with Elyan for the forge. One of Lord Caldwell’s horses had thrown a shoe, and her dad was showing Elyan how to make a new one. Gwen had tried to convince him to show her as well, but he had insisted she was too young. Besides, the servants would need her help today, he’d reasoned, and Gwen had reluctantly agreed. The servants were always in need of more help on Leon’s birthday.

That was how she found herself helping the kitchen maids set up the hall for the feast.

“Guinevere!” She looked up from where she was polishing spoons. One of the older servants, Silvia, was beckoning her over. “Come quickly.”

She hopped down from her stool in the corner, carefully putting her spoons down on the little table next to her. She ran across the room, dodging feet and furniture alike as she went. Silvia was already halfway out the room, the sharp click of heels on stone leading Gwen on even when she lost sight of her.

Silvia eventually stopped, and when Gwen caught up to her she was panting. She had just enough time to recognise the laundresses’ room when suddenly linens and towels were piled into her arms.

“Lord Lovel and young Master Leon will be back from their hunt soon, and the young master will be expecting a bath and clean room.” She turned Gwen around, pushing her slightly in the direction of Leon’s chambers. “Since Lady Amelia has been running us all ragged, I haven’t had anyone to spare for the job. Make sure you get it done quickly.”

“Yes Silvia.” Gwen stumbled a little under her load, but shifted it and righted herself.

“Good lass.” Silvia praised. “Come find me when you’re done, I’ve plenty more chores to be done.”

Gwen nodded and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other without dropping anything. Servants got out of her way as she passed, most of them smiling and offering her quick acknowledgment and praise before they went on their way. Gwen couldn’t answer any of them, too focused on not dropping the bundle in her arms.

Down a corridor, up a flight of stairs and a right turn had her arriving at Leon’s chambers.

The door was half open when she got there, so she was able to slip inside easily. The room held a slight chill, the fire left alone for too long, and Gwen knew that was one of the first things she needed to fix. Her dad had taught her how to make fires without burning herself, so Gwen was confident she didn’t need to find someone to help. She set her bundle down on Leon’s bed and shoved a few logs into the fireplace.

It took a few tries, but eventually she got it to light. The room quickly warmed, the fire crackling merrily as Gwen went about stripping Leon’s bed and replacing it with nice, fresh sheets. She was just putting the pillows back into place when Leon walked in, armour dirty and a leaf in his messy hair.

“Leon!” She had grinned and jumped off the bed to run to his side. “How was your hunt?”

Leon grumbled, frowning and pouting as he began taking his armour off. “It was fine.”

Gwen hummed and picked the leaf from his hair, spinning it. “You sure?”

Leon glared at the leaf. “I shot a deer.”

“Really?” Gwen gasped. Leon complained enough that she knew how hard that was.

“Yes.” Leon puffed his chest out a bit, proud. A second later he frowned again. “It didn’t die right away. I was chasing it down when my horse reared.”

Gwen stepped forward, offering her help without needing to be asked. There was a dent in the back of Leon’s armour, small, but big enough to bruise. “You fell?”

Leon tisked. “A rookie mistake. I should have had better control.”

Gwen hummed again, finally freeing Leon of all his armour and putting it off to the side. Elyan would have to fix it later. “Did you find the deer?”

Leon blinked. “Yes. It was dead only a few paces away.”

Gwen shrugged. “Then don’t you think the hunt was a success? Even if you fell, you shot down a deer! You’re always complaining about how hard they are to hit.”

“And you’re always complaining about me killing defenseless animals.” Leon folded his arms. “What’s so different today?”

“You looked like you could use some cheering up.” Gwen confessed. “And deer does taste rather good.”

Leon smiled, letting his arms fall as he sat by the fire. “Thank you Gwen.”

She grinned. “You’re welcome.” She gathered the dirty linens in her arms quickly, then curtsied. Silvia had taught her, because she was expected to know how, and Gwen would admit she was rather proud of how fast she had got the hang of it. “I’ll get someone to bring a bath up for you.”

Leon nodded, practically melting into his chair as Gwen left. She rolled her eyes. What was it with boys and melting into their chairs like they’d forgotten how to sit properly? Her dad always told them to sit up properly, said it would help them with an aching back. Elyan just called him old when he said that, and Gwen would laugh but sit up straighter all the same. Manners were important, after all.

She passed Helga and Kida on her way back to laundresses’ room and asked them to set up a bath for Leon. They nodded and hurried away. Gwen dropped the dirty sheets off with Lidia and went back to Leon to make sure he was alright. She’d have to ask Silvia to take a look at his wounds; Leon would never ask himself.

“Are you decent?” She yelled when she got to Leon’s door.

“As I can be.”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “_Leon_.”

A laugh. “Yes Gwen, I’m fine. The bath isn’t even warm yet.”

Gwen pushed the door open, grinning at Leon before she even saw the cheeky look on his face. “You, Leon Caldwell, are the rudest noble I have ever met.”

Leon laughed again. “I am not! Lair.”

Gwen stuck her tongue at him. She went to the bath, felt the water, and nodded to herself. It was warm enough now. She added some of the sweet smelling potion Silvia had made and swirled it around until her arm was tired and she was sure it was mixed in properly.

“Bath’s ready.” She said.

Leon jumped up from his chair and pulled his tunic off over his head. Gwen turned to leave, only to gasp as she caught sight of Leon’s back.

“Leon!” She scolded as she rushed to examine the bruises. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Leon winced as Gwen prodded one of the smaller bruises on his back. “It’s nothing Gwen. It hardly even hurts.”

Gwen have him a disapproving glare, a mirror of Silvia’s. “That doesn’t matter and you know it. They should be looked at.”

Leon pouted and pulled away. “I didn’t want anyone to worry over a couple of bruises.” Gwen continued to give him _the look_. Leon broke with a sigh. “Fine! I’ll go find Silvia after the feast tonight.”

“No.” Gwen said, laying out his towel next to his bath. “_I _will go find her and you’ll let her look at you when you get out of the bath.”

Leon groaned. “Do I have any choice?”

Gwen flashed a grin. “No.” She made her way to the door. “Besides, you have to look your best for your birthday feast.”

She slipped out the door before Leon could say anything else. It didn’t take her long to find Silvia and inform her of Leon’s injuries. The old woman had grumbled and frowned as she immediately made her way towards Leon’s rooms. Gwen giggled, knowing he was going to get a stern talking to and also knowing that he deserved it. He was too much like Elyan sometimes – neither of them liked showing when they were hurt. Some stupid notion that it made them look weak to need care.

The day passed quickly from there. It was all a blur to Gwen, chores upon chores upon chores. Elyan started helping at some point, moving tables and chairs around the hall under Lady Amelia’s close directions. Gwen didn’t envy him. Lady Amelia was a kind but stern woman most of the time, but she could be plain mean when something wasn’t organised to her satisfaction.

Finally, hours later, the preparations were complete, and Gwen and the other servants congratulated each other on a job well done. Her dad appeared, Elyan trailing along behind him, and smiled his proud smile at her. Gwen flushed and let him pick her up, her feet sore from standing all day.

An hour later the hall was full to bursting with everyone on the estate, noble and servant alike. There was a group of musicians in the corner, playing a lively tune as everyone ate. The nobles were at the end of the hall, Leon and his parents at the head of the large table. The servants were left standing, but they had a table of their own laden with food. Gwen had never seen so much food before, at least, not so much food that she was allowed to eat.

It was the best meal she could ever remember having. Elyan sat next to her on the floor as they ate, a plate of venison and vegetables each. Their dad had a plate of his own, standing above them and talking to Silvia and Helga.

Leon caught her eye and grinned. She held up her plate, taking a bite of venison and giving a thumbs up. Leon sat straighter in his chair, a proud grin on his face, and Gwen felt happier than she had in a long time.

* * *

When Gwen was seven, Elyan found her at their mama’s grave.

She went there only once a year, on the anniversary of their mama’s death. She knew Elyan never visited, and that their dad was here every morning before sunrise. She’d followed him once. He just sat beside her grave and talked about what they’d done yesterday, how Gwen and Elyan were, little things that Gwen hardly ever thought about. She hadn’t followed him again.

She had been sitting under the tree that had grown next to her mama’s grave, picking at the grass there and just thinking. Mostly she was thinking about her mama, trying to catch faded memories that fluttered just outside of her grasp. She would never, however, think of that last day, the confusion and the sadness. It hurt too much.

Today, however, she found her mind wondering. Her memories fell through her fingers faster than usual, murky and unclear, and she didn’t care half as much as she normally would.

Her focus was on the bright yellow string around her wrist. She knew what it was – had known for as long as she could remember – but recently she had found herself thinking about it more and more.

It represented her soulmate, and their connection. That what her dad had told her. The fact that she could see it was unusual. It meant her soulmate was touched by magic. Gwen wasn’t sure what to think about that. Not the fact that her soulmate had magic – Gwen wasn’t scared of magic, couldn’t be, not with her heartstring weaving merrily around her wrist everyday. No, what Gwen wasn’t sure if was if she wanted to meet her soulmate at all.

She knew the law. Anyone with magic was executed, by the King of Camelot himself. And Gwen knew what losing your soulmate did do you. Her dad carried on for her and Elyan, trying to appear normal, but Gwen knew better. He hadn’t smiled, truly smiled, since her mama died, and Gwen knew he wasn’t eating or sleeping properly. She had to remind him to eat most days, force him to more often than not.

Gwen _never_ wanted to feel like that.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Gwen jumped slightly, looking up at her big brother. She blinked, shocked.

“Elyan?” She asked, not really believing what she was seeing. “What are you doing here?”

Elyan shot a glance at their mama’s grave and swallowed. “I was looking for you.”

Gwen shifted, uncomfortable. “Why?”

“You know why.” Elyan rolled his eyes and sat down. “You shouldn’t listen to them you know. They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

Gwen sighed and hugged her knees to her chest. “What would you know? You can’t see your heartstring.”

Elyan shrugged. “So? I know you Gwen. You aren’t evil, couldn’t ever be. And that means your soulmate isn’t either.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Gwen mumbled, too quiet to hear.

“What?” Elyan asked.

He was staring at her now, with eyes so much like their mama’s it hurt. “It doesn’t matter whether they’re evil or not. If they anyone finds out they have magic, they’re dead.” Gwen glanced at their mama’s grave. “I don’t… I don’t want to see that. I don’t want to become like dad.”

“Gwen.” Elyan hesitated, then gripped her arms tightly, eyes fierce as he made eye contact. “You are the strongest person I know. Dad wouldn’t be here at all without you, you know that right? And I…” He gulped. “I don’t know where I’d be without you.” His eyes flickered to their mama’s grave. “You wouldn’t… wouldn’t turn into a shell like that.”

Gwen knew better. “Yes I would.”

“Gwen-” Elyan started, but Gwen cut him off.

“No Elyan!” She yelled, standing up and glaring down at him. “You don’t _get_ it. I know you don’t, I know you can’t!”

Elyan stared up at her, eyes wide and a little bit afraid. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I-“ Gwen gulped, her anger leaving as suddenly as it had come. She sank back down. “I overheard you. Yesterday, in the stable.”

Elyan sucked in a sharp breath. “With Edric?”

“Yes.”

Elyan sagged against the tree. “Oh.”

Gwen felt guilty. He’d come out here to make her feel better, and here she was making him feel bad. “I’m sorry.”

Elyan shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter. I was going to tell you.”

She reached over slowly, hesitant but curious, and Elyan held out his wrist with a slight roll of his eyes and an exaggerated huff. “Do you really feel nothing at all?”

“Not even the slightest twinge.”

Gwen tightened her grip on his arm. “You’re sure it means-“

“Yes, Gwen.” Elyan sighed. “I know it doesn’t make sense. I know I shouldn’t be able to tell. I don’t know how to describe it. I just _know_.” He rubbed his free hand over his chest. “I can feel it.”

Gwen turned her brother’s wrist this way and that, finding exactly what she had expected – nothing. “Are you… okay with that?”

Now, Elyan smiled. “Honestly? It’s a relief. I’ve never really wanted a soulmate.” Here, his face fell. “That’s strange, isn’t it? Not wanting a soulmate? Not even wanting _anyone_ like… that.”

“Maybe.” Gwen admitted, because _she _had certainly never heard of anyone not having a soulmate, of not even _wanting _one. “But that’s okay, you know? To be strange, I mean.”

“Is it?”

“Well.” Gwen said, watching her heartstring weave through the sunlight. “If you’re strange, so am I.”

Elyan tilted his head. “How so?”

“Because I don’t want to meet my soulmate.” She said. “Not ever.”

They stayed there for a moment longer, then Gwen stood. The castle maids needed her, and she had spent enough time away. She waved to Elyan as she ran back to the estate, down the hills and through the trees.

Elyan stayed a moment longer, staring at their mama’s grave, as he did late at night sometimes when everyone was asleep. It looked so much different in the daytime. He sighed.

“She’s lying.” He whispered to the wind. “She wants to meet them more than anything. She’s just afraid.”

The wind howled back.

* * *

Gwen was eight when her dad announced they were moving to Camelot. Leon, at twelve summers old, was to go to Camelot to train as a knight. Leon was ecstatic. Sir Aliser was also sending Edric, even though he was a year too young, and both boys were all but bouncing off the walls. It was the talk of the estate for weeks following Lord Lovel’s announcement.

Elyan, on the other hand, was sulking.

At first he was sulking because he thought he was losing his friends. Gwen knew the three of them often skipped out on their chores, choosing instead to play knights on the hills surrounding the estate. Gwen knew Leon and Edric had taught Elyan how to use a sword – she’d watched some days, when the boys had wanted someone to show off to – and Gwen knew that for all the love her brother had for making swords, he loved wielding them even more.

When their dad told them they’d be moving with Edric and Leon, Gwen thought Elyan would be happy. Instead, to her surprise, the news seemed to make Elyan even _more_ upset. He left the room in a huff, ignoring their dad’s calls. Her dad sighed.

“He’ll come around.” Gwen murmured, staring into her bowl.

Her dad turned back to her. “And you? What do you think of all this?”

Gwen wasn’t sure what to think. There was a part of her that was scared to move, to leave the only home she had ever known. She liked it here, with Silvia and Helga and Kida. More than that, this was where her mama was. Gwen wasn’t sure if she wanted to leave her. She wasn’t sure if her dad would be _able_ to leave her.

On the other hand, Gwen was _excited_. She’d never gone far from the estate, not in her whole _life_, and the idea of seeing the great city of Camelot made Gwen’s heart beat fast. Lord Lovel and Lady Amelia often told grand tales of Camelot, and Silvia would tell her all about serving in the castle.

Her dad nodded when she told him how she felt. He understood, he said. Then he left Gwen to her meal.

* * *

Three weeks later, on the morning they were due to leave, Leon found her as she was staring at her mama’s grave one last time. He had the same look on his face he always did when her mama was brought up, and Gwen was finally old enough to recognise the guilt shinning in her friends’ eyes.

He stared at her mama’s grave, refusing to meet her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Gwen’s eyes widened, surprised. “Whatever for?” Leon still refused to look at her. “Leon?”

“She was sick for a long time.” Leon said, after several too long minutes. “Everyone knew it. Some days she could barely get out of bed.” He clenched his fist. “And even though everyone knew, even when it got really bad, my parents still gave her work. I overheard Silvia once. She said the work was killing her faster than her illness.”

They were silent for a time, Gwen digesting the new information. A blast of wind made her shiver as she found her voice again.

“You know, I don’t really remember her much.” She said, and it was true. In a few years she’d remember even less. “But one thing I do remember is how she hated sitting still.” She turned to Leon, smiled. “You aren’t to blame Leon, and neither are your parents.”

Leon still looked stricken. “But-“

“No.” Gwen said, firm. “You’re too noble for your own good. This isn’t something you need to feel guilty for. My mama died because she was sick, and she worked because she wanted to. Neither of those things are your fault.”

Leon stared at the ground, a weird twist to his lips. Gwen could tell he didn’t really believe her. He could be ridiculously stubborn like that sometimes.

“Come on.” She said, turning around. “They’re waiting for us.”

* * *

Arriving in Camelot was one of the clearest memories Gwen had, even years later.

The trip itself had been exciting, if a little unremarkable. Leon had insisted she ride in the carriage with him, and he wouldn’t back down, no matter what his father said about the impropriety of allowing a servant to ride with nobility. Gwen kept her head down and allowed Leon to help her into the carriage, shooting a glance at her dad and brother as she went. Her dad smiled faintly, while Elyan screwed up her nose at her. She stuck her tongue out at him in return.

The inside of the carriage was comfortable. The hours passed slowly, and Gwen alternated between staring out the window and chatting with Leon. They stopped for breaks only twice, and by the time they finally reached Camelot, Gwen was itching to get out and stretch her legs and Leon was eagerly bouncing in his seat.

Gwen, despite her desire to get out of the carriage, shrunk further and further back into her seat the closer they got to the castle. By the time the reached the castle proper Gwen was shaking and clutching her seat. Very suddenly she wanted nothing more than to run back home, the promise and excitement of adventure and a new home gone and replaced with dread.

Over the course of their journey, Gwen has noticed something odd. Her heartstring, ever twisting in the air just on the inside of her vision, had started growing taunt. It was unnoticeable at first, but then it _squeezed_ around her wrist, and she had subtly looked at it and seen it stretching in a straight, very obvious not-flowy line ahead of them.

It scared her.

The tugging on her arm only made it worse, and she found she had to battle with herself as the carriage pulled to a stop in front of the great castle of Camelot. She wanted to get out and run. She wanted to never move. She wanted to follow her heartstring and throw her arms around her soulmate and hide them from the world. She wanted to curl up in her dads’ arms and never leave, never risk losing something she didn’t even yet have.

When Leon offered her his hand, she very nearly didn’t take it. She could see, just out of the corner of her eye, how her heartstring bled from its normal sunshine yellow to a deep green, so beautiful and calming it took her breath away. She saw the way it stretched up, up above them, tight around her wrist in a way it had never been before.

Gwen gulped and touched a finger to the flower in her hair; the one her dad had given her on one of their breaks, when Gwen had refused to tell him what was so suddenly wrong. He had smiled as he presented it to her – _the prettiest lady of them all_ – and Gwen drew strength from the soft petals.

She took Leon’s hand and stepped out of the carriage, legs protesting a little after so long sitting down. She kept her head down, eyes purposefully on her feet as she walked over to where her dad and Elyan were standing. She dared not look anywhere else.

There was a horrible feeling in her chest. It felt like her heart and lungs were slowly being squeezed of all life. It took everything she had to stay still, to keep her eyes down, to not follow her heartstring if not with her feet than with her eyes – but she managed. She clenched her fists against the tugging of her heartstring and breathed through the tightness in her chest.

She would not look up. She would not, in fact, do anything that could lead to her to meeting her soulmate. She was determined. She would have nothing to do with her soulmate, whoever they were, not now, not ever.

A glance at her father, at the permanent sadness behind his eyes, and Gwen grew even more resolute.

_Never_, she promised herself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Morgana wants answers, and Gwen fears giving them.

**Green – Day Three.**

Morgana hadn’t been sure at first that her soulmate was avoiding her. She had tried to reason with herself, tried to think rationally, without the panic and the fear and the loneliness welling up to consume her. Perhaps her soulmate had been told to keep her head down. Perhaps she was simply shy, or maybe she was scared of Camelot. The Goddess knew Morgana was, even now, days after she had first arrived in the castle, and she couldn’t imagine it getting any better, or any less terrifying.

Of course, there was always the chance that her soulmate wasn’t scared of the castle at all. Perhaps, a small and dark part of her whispered, she was terrified of the scary magical soulmate she had been given. This might be her way of rejecting her, of never having to meet the magical _monster_ at the end of her heartstring.

Morgana had heard how they talked about magic in Camelot, after all. It was not hard to find servants and nobles alike whispering in hushed tones about the _dangerous, corrupt magic users_, how everyone knew to fear the monsters that would destroy them all without a second thought.

It was so different from her home, from Gria and Kori and her father. She hated it. She hated the whispers. She hated it _all. _But mostly she hated how scared it made her, of herself and the things she had been told she would one day be able to do.

_You will be strong_, Gria used to tell her, but how could she? And how could she hope that someone raised in this place would want someone like her?

Still, she didn’t _know_, not for sure, until three days after her soulmate had arrived in Camelot.

She’d been wondering the halls, not deliberately heading in any particular direction. Well, that was how she had started. In truth it hadn’t taken her long to admit to herself that she was trying to subtly follow her heartstring as it twisted through the halls, tugging her hand in the direction it wanted her to go.

She hadn’t tried following it before. She’d resisted the pull, ignored the feeling in her chest as best she could, no matter how much it hurt, but no longer. She was going to find her soulmate and she was going to demand answers before she drove herself mad wondering.

It was easy to follow her heartstring. Resisting it had always felt like walking through knee-high mud, her feet dragging as her head pounded. Following her heartstring made her heart pound instead, and her head clear, and as she drew closer to her soulmate she felt calmer than she had in days, weeks.

The green of her heartstring had started to bleed into that pretty yellow. Morgana had never really had a favourite colour, though if you were to ask she would say purple, but now she thought she might answer with the light green of her heartstring when her soulmate was near. It was beautiful, like soft grass on a warm summers day.

And it was quickly bleeding back into her deep forest green.

Morgana picked up her pace, lifting her skirts slightly so she wouldn’t trip over them. The small heels on her shoes made it difficult to run, and all at once she wished she still had her sparring boots and breeches her father had given her. They would make running so much easier.

Morgana huffed as her heartstring yanked her forwards, almost sending her toppling to the ground.

“Stop it.” She hissed. “I know. I’m going as fast as I can.”

Her heartstring didn’t seem to agree. It yanked her again, harder this time, and Morgana had to slam into the wall beside her in her effort to stay standing. She gasped silently, clutching at her wrist, and silently thanked the Goddess that no one was in the halls to see her. They’d stop her, think her mad, perhaps even take her to the _king_. She couldn’t allow that – not now when she had a mission to complete.

She took off running again, somehow managing to avoid passing anyone, and steadily her heartstring got lighter and lighter.

She grinned and pushed her legs to go faster, watching her heartstring as she ran through an open door. It was a small door, and suddenly Morgana found herself outside and blinking in the afternoon sun. Her heartstring pulled her forward a few steps, out into the lower town of Camelot. She hesitated a moment, glancing back at the castle. She hadn’t gone into the lower town before, but she couldn’t stop now.

She started running again, dodging people now as she followed her heartstring through the busy streets. Most no one paid her any mind, for she wore one of her plainer dresses, and to them she looked like any other child playing where she shouldn’t be.

“Watch it!” Someone yelled as she shoved them.

“Sorry!” Morgana tossed over her shoulder, not bothering to look at who it was.

Her chase came to its inevitable end at a rather ordinary looking house. It was a commoner’s house, as she had known it would be, but it was also very obviously a blacksmith’s house. A horse shoe hung above the doorframe, and the stench of oils made her nose tickle. She marched up to the door, lungs heaving and shoved it _hard_.

It didn’t budge.

Morgana grunted and grabbed the handle, pulling as hard as she could, but it still wouldn’t move. She growled and let go, banging on the door instead.

“I know you’re in there.” She called, though she dare not speak too loudly. She had drawn enough attention to herself already. “Let me in!”

There was no answer from inside. Morgana could feel her there, just out of reach. She was pressed against the door, as if she was holding it closed against Morgana. Tears of frustration welled up in Morgana’s eyes, and she angrily scrubbed them away, glaring at the closed door.

“Why?” She said instead, loud enough that she knew her soulmate could hear her through the wood.

Silence.

She stepped back, no matter how her heartstring yanked and squeezed, begging her to return. Tears filled her eyes again, except this time they weren’t tears of frustration.

“Lady Morgana!”

Morgana jumped and spun around. A woman she recognised as one of the maids assigned to look after her was storming towards her, and Morgana stiffened. The woman wasn’t scary, not really, but Morgana could tell she was furious, and she really didn’t want to have to explain herself. She wasn’t even sure _how_ she would explain herself, for she certainly couldn’t tell the truth.

“What are you doing out here all alone?” The maid asked, reaching out as if to grab her and shake her. “Do you realise how dangerous it is to be wondering around without a guard? You are the king’s ward, child!”

Morgana turned her head away and crossed her arms, glaring at her soulmates house, and that’s when she saw her. Peeping out of the window, watching as Morgana was screamed at, was the pretty girl she had seen exit the carriage days ago. She had a hand over her mouth to hide her- was it shock or disgust? Morgana couldn’t tell, and it _hurt_.

It felt like someone had thrown a bucket of freezing water on her. Morgana wanted to scream, to cry, to punch her soulmate and to fall to the floor at her knees and beg her to tell her why. But Morgana could do none of those things.

Instead she turned back to the maid, feeling lifeless. “I apologise. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

The maid sighed. “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again, hmm? We don’t want to bother the king after all.”

Morgana flinched. “Of course not.”

“Come on then.” The maid said, turning back towards the castle.

Morgana hesitated. She glanced back at her soulmate, only to find the window empty. She tightened her jaw and turned, forcing her feet take her back to the castle.

**Yellow – Day Three.**

Gwen could feel her whole body shaking as she pressed herself into the wall underneath her window. She had one hand covering her mouth to stop the whimpers of pain from slipping out and the other hand clutching her wrist as her heartstring desperately tried to pull her up and out the window to her soulmate. To meet her, to know her, to care for her.

Gwen wouldn’t. She _couldn’t_.

The need to throw herself out the window gradually faded as her soulmate got further and further away, back to the castle where she was staying.

And how terrifying it had been, learning just exactly who her soulmate was. It wasn’t some maid or peasant girl like her, but a noble, a _lady_, someone who had magic and yet lived in the castle alongside King Uther Pendragon himself.

The Lady Morgana. That was her name, or at least that was what Leon had told Gwen her name was.

It didn’t matter what her name was, and it didn’t matter that she was a noble, the daughter of the kings late best friend. No one could live that close to the king and not get caught – it was only a matter of time, and when she was found out and executed, then that would be that. Gwen could continue on with her life without having to worry about her magical soulmate chasing her through town demanding answers Gwen felt too afraid to give.

Gwen immediately felt like a horrible person. She didn’t want her soulmate to die. But what could she do?

Nothing. Not if she wanted to avoid becoming like her dad.

So she sat on the floor under her window, one hand still covering her mouth. She sat there, unmoving, until her dad came home and found her.

“Gwen?” He called softly, kneeling beside her. “What are you doing on the floor?”

Gwen’s eyes filled with tears as she finally moved, flinging herself at her dad. He caught her, his big arms wrapping her up until she felt safe and warm again. They stayed like that for a while, until Gwen’s tears dried and she didn’t feel like she was about to fly apart, and then she pulled back, though she refused to leave the safety of her dad’s arms.

“What happened?” Her dad asked again, gentle.

Gwen stared at the ground and refused to look up. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“_Gwen_…” Her dad said sternly.

“No! I’m not talking about it!” She said firmly, still refusing to look at him.

Her dad was silent for a moment, and then he sighed. “Alright. But you know I’m always here if you want to talk, don’t you?”

Gwen slumped and smiled weakly at him. “I know.” She glanced around and frowned. “Where’s Elyan?”

Her dad accepted the change in topic and stood. “He’s been watching the knights all day. Apparently Leon promised to teach him what he’s been learning from the other squires.”

“I thought he was helping you at the forge?” Gwen remembered because she had begged to go as well, but her dad had told her to go help in the castle with the other maids instead, claiming she was still too young to join him.

Her dad simply shook his head. Gwen hesitated – she knew what the answer would be, had asked plenty enough already – but she didn’t want to go back to the castle. Her heartstring always felt like it was moments away from ripping her arm right out of its socket, and no matter what she did her head always felt like it was stuffed full of cotton. She was desperate to get away from the castle, especially after today.

“Maybe I could help you instead?” She asked hopefully.

“Gwen-“

“Please dad.” She begged. “I’m old enough to work in the forge, and you need the help, I know you do. Please.”

He considered her for a moment and then shook his head ruefully. “Alright. But you have to do _exactly_ as I say.”

Gwen’s eyes widened and she could have leapt for joy. “Yes! I will, I promise!” She jumped up on the bed and kissed her dad on the cheek. “Thank you dad.”

He smiled. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

“I won’t!” She jumped down and grabbed the hammer she had seen her dad use. “I’ll be the best blacksmith ever, you’ll see.”

Her dad laughed and ruffled her hair, gently taking the hammer from her. “If you’re going to be the best, first I’m going to need to teach you the basics.”

Gwen laughed and followed her dad out the door, doing her best to ignore the tugging on her wrist.

**Green – Day Four.**

Morgana spent the rest of the day curled up on her bed, refusing to talk to anyone. She declined dinner with the king, ignoring her maid and anyone else that entered the room. At some point she fell asleep, though when she could not tell. Nightmares chased her all night long, never waking her, but never truly allowing her to rest either. She woke the next morning exhausted, and almost refused the breakfast presented to her.

Then Gaius appeared at the door, his medical bag slung over his shoulder, and Morgana busied herself with eating, ignoring him in favour of picking at her food. Gaius spent a few minutes whispering with her maid, the both of them throwing her little glances when they thought she wasn’t looking.

She was, and eventually they must have realised, because her maid took the still-full plate from her hands. She didn’t protest and let it go, looking down and fiddling with her blanket to avoid Gaius’s stare.

Gaius sat on the end of the bed. “Good morning Lady Morgana.”

“Good morning Gaius.” Morgana echoed.

“The king informed me you refused to dine with him last night.” He said gently. “And I noticed you didn’t eat much of your breakfast this morning.”

“I wasn’t hungry.” She said defensively. “That’s all.”

One of Gaius’s eyebrows raised. “Is that so?”

Morgana crossed her arms. “Yes.”

Gaius was silent for a moment. Morgana almost thought that he would accept her lies and leave, but he simply sighed and bent down, reaching into his bag.

“How has your chest been feeling?”

Morgana blinked at him. “My chest?”

“You came to me complaining of a tightness in your chest, remember?”

She shifted, uncomfortable, and looked back down at her hands. “It’s fine.”

“And your heartstring?” He asked, like he already knew what was happening.

Morgana’s jaw tightened. “It’s _fine_.”

“Are you sure?” Gaius asked, unconvinced.

“_Yes_.” She said firmly. “Now, I think you should leave. I don’t need a physician.”

“My lady, please. I only want to help you.” He rested a hand on her knee, startling her into looking up. “I know what it’s like when you first feel your soulmate approaching. How terrifying it can be.”

_Terrifying_. Yes, her soulmate had certainly seemed terrified. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“My lady, ignoring your soulmate can have dreadful consequences-“

“Then why don’t you tell her that!” Morgana snapped.

Gaius sat back, startled. For a second Morgana felt a weight fall off her shoulders, and the relief of finally telling someone made her feel better than she had since Gria had died.

And then reality came rushing back in, and Morgana wished she could take the words back.

“Leave.” Morgana whispered, hardly able to breathe.

He was going to tell the king, and Uther would find her soulmate, and the pretty girl would tell the king that she was too terrified to go near the person on the other end of her heartstring because of their dangerous magic. She could almost hear the guards coming to arrest her already.

“Morgana.” Gaius said quietly, gently, cutting through her panic. “I should tell you that everything you tell me will remain solely in this room. I will tell no one, not even the king.”

Morgana swallowed down her fear. “Do you swear it?”

Gaius bowed his head. “I swear it.”

Morgana nodded shakily. “I’d like to be alone now.”

Gaius stood and bowed lowly, picking up his bag again as he stood. Morgana watched as he slowly shuffled to the door. He stopped and turned back towards her, one hand on the handle.

“If you wish to speak to me, my door will always be open.”

Morgana nodded, wishing he would just leave. “Thank you.”

And then he was gone, finally, the door closing softly behind him, and Morgana slumped in her bed. Alone, again, and wondering if that would ever change.

**Yellow – Day Four.**

Gwen rubbed her wrist uncomfortably, trying to get rid of the tingling running up and down her arm. At least her heartstring wasn’t trying to yank her through the lower town and into the castle today. She had woken up the previous morning to her heartstring wrapped tight around her wrist and all but dragging her across the floor. She had clung to the bed, fighting the feeling and trying not to wake her dad and brother next to her.

Almost an hour later she had been left shaking with tears prickling in her eyes, her heartstring finally relaxing minutely.

It had been one of the worst things Gwen had ever experienced.

“Are you even watching us?”

Gwen startled and looked up at her brother. His tunic was ripped in the corner and covered in dust, and Gwen noted that she’d have to fix it later.

“Of course I am.” She lied.

It wasn’t her fault watching her brother and his friends hit each other with sticks wasn’t all that entertaining. She’d much rather be with her father in the forge, learning to make something knew, but her father had told her she had to stay away today. He was making a very expensive sword for some lord Gwen didn’t know yet, and he couldn’t risk being distracted, no matter how much Gwen promised to stay quiet and out of the way.

“Liar.” Elyan said, swinging his wooden sword in a clumsy circle. “You were daydreaming.”

Edric laughed and threw his stick on the ground. “Daydreaming? Our Guinevere? About who?”

Gwen flushed. “No one!”

“Is it your soulmate?” Leon asked curiously.

Gwen glared. “No!”

“It is!” Edric’s eyes widened. “Have you met them?”

“No! Just- stop asking stupid questions.” She stood and spun, stalking away from the three of them without looking back.

For a second she thought she’d get away, but then she heard footsteps following behind her, and when she glanced over her shoulder Elyan was easily keeping pace with her.

“Go away.”

Elyan shook his head. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Gwen lied, quickly picking up her pace. Her heartstring squeezed her wrist tightly, giving a strong tug, and she did her best to ignore it. “I just want to be left alone.”

“You’re lying.” Elyan said. “What’s wrong with your soulmate?”

“Nothing!”

“Did you meet them?” Elyan asked, considering. “Are they mean? Is that why you’re upset?”

“No!” Gwen snapped instantly. If either of them were mean, it was Gwen, not Morgana. “Can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Nope.” He swung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against his side. “I’m your big brother. It’s my job to look after you. Now tell me what happened with your soulmate.”

Gwen glanced around at all the people around them and shook her head. “I don’t want to have a soulmate.”

Elyan grimaced. “Gwen...”

“I don’t!” She insisted. “You know I- and I couldn’t bare it if- and it would just be easier if I never had a soulmate in the first place, like you!”

She looked at him, hoping that he understood, but he was still frowning. Gwen didn’t understand why. What she had said made perfect sense.

“You love too much for that.” Elyan said quietly. “You used to love hearing stories of soulmates when you were little. I remember Silvia complaining all the time because you kept making her tell you how she met her soulmate over and over.”

Gwen huffed and shoved his arm off of her. “I was a silly little kid.”

“You’re still a silly little kid.” Elyan said instantly, nudging her gently. “You can’t ignore your soulmate forever. Your heartstring won’t let you.”

As if in agreement, her heartstring gave a particularly violent tug, making her stumble into Elyan’s side. She pushed herself away from him and started walking towards home. Maybe she couldn’t ignore her forever, but that wasn’t going to stop her from trying.

**Green – Day Four. **

“How are you finding your time in Camelot, Morgana?”

Morgana startled at the sound of her name and glanced up from her food, the first time she had raised her eyes since she first sat at the table. The king was staring at her intently, waiting for her answer, and Morgana had to swallow past the shock and fear of it to answer.

“Quite pleasant, my lord.” She lied, knowing any other answer would lead to questions Morgana couldn’t answer.

The king nodded. “Gaius informed me that you felt unwell yesterday.”

Morgana’s heart quickened. He couldn’t know. Could he? Gaius had promised not to tell anyone, but then, how could Morgana trust him? He was loyal to the king. He had told him, and now Morgana has to make up a reason why her soulmate was ignoring her, and pray that she was never found out.

“My lord-“ she started.

“I understand how much you must be missing your home in Cornwall.” The kind interrupted her. “But I hope that in time you will come to see Camelot as your new home.”

Morgana ducked her head, afraid her relief was showing too clearly on her face. “Thank you my lord. I hope so as well.”

What Morgana hoped was that that would be the end of it. Though they were almost alone in the dining hall, Morgana could feel the burning gazes of the servants attending them. Whenever she looked at them, however, they were staring at a wall or the floor, never at her, and while it should have calmed her, it only set her more on edge. They were here, and they were listening, and who knew what they might be thinking. They would never dare tell her directly, and if even one of them thought she was lying, she knew there would be all sorts of rumours flying about the castle come morning.

Morgana closed her eyes and tried to rein in her fear. She could practically feel Gria’s disapproval, how her eyes would turn stern even as her gentle hands soothed her. She’d tell her she must not be so paranoid – that she must remain calm and trust in herself and her magic.

But then, what had Gria known? Certainly nothing about her soulmate, and that was what she had claimed to know the most.

Five more minutes passed before Morgana couldn’t stand being in the room any longer.

She wiped her mouth clean with a cloth and pushed away from the table. “If you would excuse me sire, I fear I must take my leave for the night.”

“Of course.” The king waved a hand, and the young woman that had been serving her stepped forward. “I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

She nodded and bowed shallowly, quickly rushing out of the room. The serving woman followed her, three steps behind, but Morgana ignored her. She made her way quickly to her room and dismissed the woman before she could follow her in. She looked torn for a moment, but then simply bowed deeply and left without a word.

Morgana felt herself drift towards her window without any conscious thought. Her heartstring tugged at her insistently, as it had for days now, never mind that her soulmate had already rejected her. She glared at the spot where her heartstring disappeared into the lower town. There was the tiniest hint of yellow creeping up her green where it passed through the courtyard gates, and Morgana wished she could hate it.

Instead she just felt utterly and completely alone.

**Yellow – Day Five.**

“Gwen.”

Gwen looked up from where she was sharpening the small knives her dad had given her. “Yes?”

He motioned her over to sit on his knee – the sword he was forging had been set aside to anneal until it was ready to grind. Gwen went happily, abandoning her whetstone and the knife she was working on in favour of jumping onto his lap.

“Are you going to let me forge my own sword?” She asked excitedly.

Her dad’s lips quirked up. “No Gwen. Not yet.”

Gwen pouted. “Why not? I’ve seen you work – I know how to!”

He shook his head, laughing slightly. “It takes more than watching Gwen. It will take you years before you’re ready to make your own swords.”

Gwen wanted to argue – she’d learned plenty by simply watching! – but the smile had slipped from her dad’s face. She knew the look he wore now, with his lips pulled ever-so-slightly downwards and the barely-there tears in his eyes. Eyes that turned distant as Gwen watched.

He was thinking of her mama again.

She shifted, looking down at her hands. Her dad could spend days with that look on his face, silent and grieving, and nothing Gwen or Elyan did could bring him out of it. One morning he’d simply wake and hug them both, quietly telling them how much he loved them, and then they’d all continue on like nothing had happened.

Gwen had resigned herself to another week of silence and caring for her dad when he refused to do anything but mindlessly work, her mind already running through what food they had that she knew how to make a decent meal with, when her dad surprised her by hugging her close, his words soft in her ear.

“Meeting your soulmate is a wonderful thing.” He whispered, barely loud enough for Gwen to hear, and her heart dropped. “I’m sorry that I’ve made you fear it.”

Gwen pulled back, already shaking her head. “Dad no-“

He shushed her, one hand coming to rest on her cheek, and Gwen fell silent. Her dad sighed and shook his head, and to her horror, a tear fell from his eye. She moved to wipe it from his face, unsure of what else she could do. He’d never cried when he thought of her mama – at least, he hadn’t for a long time.

“Oh my beautiful girl. You are more than a man like me deserves.” A smile, sad and fleeting, pulled at his lips. “You’re just like your mother. I was hopeless before I met her- all I knew was the feel of a hammer in my hands and hot metal beneath my tools. I never dreamed of anything more, even after I met her.”

He pulled her close again, his arms engulfing her. Gwen clung to his tunic and listened to the steady beat of his heart. Her own heart ached with a pain she had become familiar with a long time ago. It hurt more, suddenly, and Gwen wished she could find her voice and ask her dad to stop talking. Maybe then the pain would go away.

“Elyan told me you don’t want to meet your soulmate.”

Gwen’s breath stuttered. “He did?”

Her dad sighed. “Will you tell me why?”

Gwen thought he already knew, or at least suspected, but she sighed and nodded. “She has magic.” Her dad sucked in a breath and Gwen hurriedly added on. “I know we’re not supposed to talk about it, but she does, and we’re in _Camelot_.” She looked down to her lap and swallowed hard. “The king would kill her if she was ever found out.”

“Gwen...”

“And then I’d be alone. I’d be like-“ Gwen cut herself off, but she knew her dad could easily guess what she had been about to say. “I don’t want to get to know her just to lose her.”

“Gwen.” Her dad said softly, cupping her check and forcing her to look up at him. “Nothing in this life lasts forever. Your mama she... her absence hurts.” Tears gathered in his eyes again, and Gwen felt her own tears start to form. “But I know it would have hurt so much more had I never met her. I could never regret knowing her, or loving her. Don’t you agree?”

Gwen thought of her mama – the bits and pieces that she remembered and treasured above all else. She thought of the faint sound of her mama’s laughter, the feel of calloused hands running through her hair after she’d woken from a nightmare, and of the way her dad always tells her she looks just like her mama, and she remembers just enough to be able to agree with him. She wonders what it would have been like, not having those memories, and immediately decides she didn’t want to know.

She understood, suddenly, what her dad was trying to say. And, just as suddenly, she felt the heavy weight of guilt hit her hard in the chest.

She looked up at her dad, tears beginning to fall silently.

“I’m so sorry.” She whispered.

Her dad thumbed her tears away, smiling softly. “Gwen, you don’t have to apologise.”

“No. I do.” She sniffed, grabbing her dad’s hands. “To her.”

Her dad nodded. “In the morning. I imagine Elyan is getting tired of waiting for us.”

Gwen wanted to argue. She had been horrible to Morgana, she knew, and she _needed_ to apologise. But her dad was right – Elyan would be waiting for them, and besides, the guards wouldn’t let her in the castle at this time of night. She would have to wait.

She just hoped Morgana would give her a second chance.

**Green – Day Seven.**

“My lady, the King has requested you join him for lunch this afternoon.”

Morgana wished she could tell the maid she would rather never see the King again, thank you very much, but she knew she couldn’t. It had been four days since she had chased her soulmate through the town, and she had spent almost all of her time since curled up in bed. She thought of her soulmate often, no matter how hard she willed herself not to. Between her soulmate rejecting her and the grief that consumed her whenever she thought of home, Morgana found herself constantly exhausted, no matter how much she slept.

She sighed and pushed herself up in bed. “Very well.”

She yawned and slid to the side of the bed, the stones cold under her bare feet. She saw the maid ruffling around in her wardrobe, sifting through her various dresses. She eventually pulled out a white dress, one the king had gifted her last night. Morgana frowned.

“I’ll wear my red dress.” She said firmly.

The maid raised her eyebrows for a moment, but she said nothing as she pulled out the dress her father had given to her last year. She moved away as Morgana got dressed, pulling open the curtains before levelling her with a concerned look that Morgana steadily ignored. She knew she must look terrible in the morning light, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. Still, the maids gaze burned into her as she moved about the room, cleaning and serving Morgana breakfast in turn.

“Perhaps, my lady, you should visit the gardens today. They are beautiful this time of the year.” The maid said.

Morgana nodded half-heartedly. “I’d love to see them.”

In truth Morgana wanted nothing more than to stay in her room, but after refusing to leave her bed for four days people were staring to worry. Gaius especially had been encouraging her to leave her room – he insisted a change of environment would help her. Morgana didn’t think leaving her room would help her at all, but it at least made the maid stopped burning holes into her back.

“I would accompany you, if you so wished, my lady.”

Morgana glanced at the maid. “I don’t believe you ever told me your name.”

The maid smiled warmly. “My name is Wren, my lady.”

“Wren.” It was a very pretty name. It suited her, with her thin frame and birdlike features. Even her blonde hair looked like feathers in a certain light, though that might just be Morgana’s eyes playing tricks on her. “Let us go explore the gardens then.”

Wren led her through the castle, taking a path Morgana did her best to memorise.

“Are the gardens far?” Morgana asked, trying her best to keep her bearings.

“No, my lady.” Wren smiled down at her. “You’re very lucky, your room is only a few corridors from them.” She chuckled and lowered her voice. “And there’s a staircase leading straight to the kitchens right by your door. It’s the best way to nick food without cook noticing.”

Morgana laughed, startled, and Wren beamed. Morgana flushed and quickly looked away.

“I’ll be sure to remember.” Morgana said, allowing a small grin to remain on her face.

Wren seemed to take that as a win, because she refused to stop smiling as she led Morgana down another corridor and to a small, unassuming door. Wren pulled it open for her and bowed, exaggerated and low, and Morgana felt her grin twitch. She swept through the door before Wren could say anything else.

The gardens were, as Wren had promised, beautiful. Stone walls surrounded them on all sides, but the vines that covered them almost convinced Morgana she had stepped into a forest. She followed the paved path, eyes wide in an attempt to see everything. Flowers were everywhere, bright splashes of colour amongst the grass and the few trees that had been allowed to grow, and to Morgana it was the most beautiful thing she had seen in all of Camelot.

“These used to be Queen Ygraine’s gardens.” Wren murmured, making Morgana startle. She hadn’t even heard her approach. “She would tend to them herself, refusing to let any of the servants help.” She sighed, looking around wistfully. “I don’t think anyone comes here anymore.”

Morgana shivered, suddenly getting the horrible feeling she was trespassing. “Why did you bring me here?”

Wren turned back to her and smiled. “She would often bring guests here, the ladies and children that were left bored while the king talked with their husbands and fathers. Lady Vivienne visited often. Her majesty even gave her a part of the gardens that was all her own.”

Morgana could hear her heart pounding in her ears as she looked around again, eyes purposeful and searching this time. Her _mother_ had been here!

“Where?” She asked breathlessly, looking up at Wren and trying desperately to keep herself from begging.

Wren said nothing for a moment, then pointed towards the far corner of the gardens, and Morgana was running before she’d even thought to move. She was there in a heartbeat, taking in the small stone birds and the overgrown flower beds, looking for anything that would prove her mother had been there. That this had been _hers_.

And there, half hidden in the tall green grass, was a patch of bright blue flowers growling merrily in the sun.

Morgana reached out a shaking hand and cupped one of the blooms in her palms. It was soft and fragile under her touch, and she drew back, suddenly afraid it would crumble under her fingers.

“My mother grew these. There’s a whole field of them back home.” Morgana whispered.

Wren knelt down next to her, ghosting a hand over the petals. “They’re beautiful.”

“Yes.” Morgana smiled. “They are.”

They spent an hour in the gardens, Wren showing her all the prettiest flowers, and Morgana felt, for just a moment, like she was back home. Back when everything had been perfect.

But moments don’t last forever, and soon Morgana had to leave and get ready for lunch with the king. She didn’t want to leave, but Wren promised to bring her back after lunch, and Morgana allowed herself to be lead towards the door.

Her heartstring suddenly pulled her arm violently, dragging her forward and making her stumble to the ground. Wren cried out and reached for her, just barely catching her by the arm before her face could slam into the ground. She was saying something, but Morgana couldn’t hear her. Her whole world had muted and turned slow as she watched a bright yellow crawl up her heartstring.

It was her soulmate. Her soulmate was coming to _her_.

Morgana felt rage flair up, hot and burning from the betrayal she hadn’t even realised had taken up residence in her heart. She pushed herself to her feet and pulled away from Wren.

“Lady Morgana?” She asked, confused.

Morgana forced herself to breathe. “I have to go. Don’t follow me, I know the way back to my chambers.”

Wren tried to call out to her, to get her to stop, but Morgana was too focused. Too focused on getting away, on avoiding her soulmate and trying to shove away all the feelings that came with thinking of her. It seemed, however, that the gods did not deem her worthy of their mercy.

Her soulmate was blocking her. Morgana couldn’t see her, refused to look up from the floor and look at her, but she knew she was there. Waiting, impossibly, for her to come closer.

Morgana spun on her heel and walked away.

“My lady, please, wait!” The girl called, but Morgana ignored her, almost running, taking a twisting route that she hoped lead back towards her room.

Morgana heard footsteps behind her and broke into a sprint. The footsteps followed behind her, down corridors and up and down stirs, all the way back to her room, and she was heaving for breath by the time she made it inside and slammed the door behind her. It bounced open again, and Morgana heard the footsteps come to a stop. She froze, not daring to look and hardly able to breathe as her soulmate silently stepped into the room and closed the door gently behind her.

“Morgana, _please_. I need to talk to you.”

“And what makes you think I want to talk to you?” Morgana snapped, glaring over her shoulder.

Her soulmate flinched violently, and Morgana felt immediately sorry. She opened her mouth, but she didn’t get the chance to apologise, because her soulmate was already speaking.

“I’m so sorry! I am, please, I swear it. I never meant to hurt you.”

There was a long pause, the silence heavy on Morgana’s shoulders.

“Why?” She finally whispered.

There was another long pause, and this time the weight settled on her heart.

“I was afraid.” Her soulmate said simply.

Morgana flinched. Of course. She should have known. Everyone in Camelot was terrified of magic – why would her soulmate be any different?

“I didn’t want to lose you.”

Morgana startled and looked at her soulmate properly for the first time. She was beautiful, and huffing for breath, and she was crying. Crying and talking so fast Morgana could hardly understand what she was saying.

“I’m sorry, I just, I’ve always known my soulmate was a sorcerer, even if my dad never let me speak of it, and when I was old enough to understand _why_, I knew we would have to be careful. But I always thought the day I met my soulmate would be the best day of my life. I mean, dad always said that when he met my mama it was like he was seeing the world properly for the first time.”

She sucked in a quick breath and looked down at her feet, shoulders slumped. Morgana wanted to reach out and say something, but she held her tongue. She needed to hear what her soulmate had to say.

“When my mama died, it was like my dad died with her. The first few years without her he hardly spoke or did anything other than work, and I... I hated it. I swore that I would never meet my soulmate, because I knew that with the law, it would only be a matter of time before the king found them- you.” She shuddered and met Morgana’s eyes. “When I saw you, I panicked. I didn’t want to meet you just to lose you. But you’re very brave, coming to Camelot, and I... I want to be brave too.”

Morgana swallowed back the lump in her throat. She wanted to protest – she didn’t feel brave. She had been forced to come to Camelot, and she’d spent the past week terrified out of her mind. Her soulmate stepped forward, reaching out as of to take her hands before seeming to think better of it.

“I’m so sorry Morgana. I never should have run away from you, but I promise, if you’ll let me, I’ll never leave you again.”

Morgana swallowed down the lump in her throat and did her best to blink back the tears in her eyes.

“What’s your name?” She asked quietly.

Her soulmate smiled faintly. “Guinevere, but my friends call me Gwen.”

“Gwen.” Morgana said, tasting the name on her tongue.

A small, shy smile grew on Gwen’s face. “My lady.”

Morgana shook her head. “Please, just Morgana.”

“Morgana.” She amended.

Morgana smiled. She hesitated for a moment, looking Gwen in the eyes briefly, before holding her hands out. Gwen’s eyes widened, shocked, and she searched Morgana’s face intently. Morgana held still, letting Gwen look, and whatever she found seemed to reassure her. She stepped closer and gently placed her hands in Morgana’s.

Immediately Morgana’s world exploded.

Everything was suddenly so much _more_ than what it had been before. The colours were brighter, vivid and almost painful to look at. She swore she could hear the sound of a mouse in the corner of the room, its little heart pounding like a drum, though it was nothing compared to the people she could hear outside her window, once a faint noise now an overwhelming sound.

Despite how overwhelming it all was, Morgana had never felt so alive.

She felt her legs shaking with the shock of it all, and it felt like only a matter of time before they gave out from underneath her. She’d never felt like this- like the whole world was trembling with her.

With growing alarm, Morgana realised the world _was_ shaking. She held Gwen’s hands tightly and squeezed her eyes shut.

It was only after the world stopped shaking that Morgana realised they were on the floor. She laughed, light and happy, and pulled Gwen into a tight hug. Gwen hugged her back tightly, like she never wanted to let go.

“I forgive you.” Morgana whispered.

Gwen pulled back, though her hands never let go of Morgana’s and she opened her mouth to say something.

And then her bedroom door slammed open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow has it been a while. I could give you all the reasons as to why, but I would rather just say thank you. Thank you for all your lovely comments, all the kudos, and for waiting so patiently for this chapter. <3

**Author's Note:**

> The sequel is here! I'm still in the process of writing this one, so I have no idea how many chapters it's going to be, but I'm making a guess right now and am going to say five. But we'll see! Please be patient with me, and if you want to chat, leave a comment, or come talk to me on [Tumblr](https://cupcakezys.tumblr.com/)
> 
> I wonder... can anyone guess what's going to happen next?


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